


Her Dick Grew Three Sizes That Day

by greypraxis



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: Awkward Boners, Big Clit, C-Section, Cheating, Condoms, Cuckolding, F/F, Futanari, Futanari Addison, G!P, Girl Penis, Horniness, Masturbation, Smut, and the eroticization thereof, g!p addison, intermediate mesoderm, its a SERIOUS exploration of the intersection between the medicalization, medical terminology lol, minor derek/addison, minor derek/meredith, my girlfriend told me to tag this crack but its NOT, of the intersex body, sorry wanted to use that tag, thank you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:13:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26504197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greypraxis/pseuds/greypraxis
Summary: A Phalloidiviridae Futanarii outbreak is giving some of the members of the Seattle GAYS Hospital new members. a hard problem arose at the Seattle GAYS Hospital is what im saying. iykwim - one shot.
Relationships: Meredith Grey/Addison Montgomery
Comments: 10
Kudos: 77





	Her Dick Grew Three Sizes That Day

Addison Montgomery-Shepherd raised the mass of cells out from the woman’s abdomen. It was wet and slick and new under the lights of the OR. Addison set down the cyst on the procedural tray, and let out her breath. She didn’t know she had been holding it in. Perhaps the weight of the growth had triggered the part of the - what was it -  _ somatosensory cortex _ that the doctor had associated with neonates.

“Fetal heart rate, 120. All vitals normal for the mother, too.” Addison blinked quickly as she raised her head, and felt, with immediate horror, an eyelash fall into her eye. “Agh - sorry - looks like a success.” Christ, this hurt. “Let’s close up the mother.”

“I thought the fetus was supposed to be female?” Karev asked. Goddammit, Addison could not  _ see _ . No amount of blinking was helping. She could not operate like this. She lowered her head again, using the movement to secretly wipe away the intrusive bit of hair. Perhaps not secretly enough - Addison saw the anesthesiologist standing by squinting suspiciously. 

“That’s what the chart reported.” Now that Addison could see clearly, she confirmed Karev had reason to suspect otherwise. “That certainly doesn’t seem to be the case here, though. Let’s figure out where the chart came from. If that doesn’t explain anything, then we can let the mother know and see if we can screen for intersex conditions.” Karev nodded dutifully, and Addison called for clamps as her focus shifted to cleanly finishing the surgery. 

It was 9 PM by the time Addison finished the surgery, the last of her shift. She made an immediate beeline to her car, and subsequently drove back to Derek’s horrible trailer - she was never going to call it driving  _ home _ . She was surprised to find the lights off when she got to the vehicle, but she told herself her husband must’ve been called in for an emergency. 

For the next hour or so, she went back and forth between throwing some of Derek’s clothing into the hamper, getting upset at the humiliation of this task, deciding to sit in passive-aggressive wait for her husband, getting annoyed at the general mess, and going back to cleaning up. It was perhaps not the most effective way to clean up, nor the most effective way to rest, but Addison was feeling a general restlessness that drove her to organize and reorganize the bachelor pad she felt forced to live in. 

Eventually, Addison tired of this cycle, showered, and went to bed. The restlessness had not left her, and at this point Addison had identified it as a mild state of sexual arousal. More to go to sleep than to actually enjoy herself, Addison clinically rubbed herself through her underwear, thinking of nothing in particular outside of her quickening breath and feeling her nipples harden and oh my God why was the trailer so hot all the time, it’s seriously early October, Christ almighty, and she tore off the sheets, and she was about to pull out her phone to maybe read or watch something when she heard Doc barking outside and Derek’s car lock. 

The neurosurgeon didn’t even turn on the lights. Addison heard his belt unbuckle and the rustle of fabric as Derek changed in the dark, then the horrible whine of the bed springs as he collapsed next to her. 

“Where were you?” asked Addison. 

“Emergency. Aneurysm,” responded Derek. 

“Did you put your clothes in the hamper?” 

“What?” This question came out more as an exhale than as a coherent word. 

“When you took them off. Did you put your dirty clothes in the hamper?”

“Addison. It’s two in the morning.” Wait, was it? When did that happen? 

For a while, Addison just laid next to her husband in uncomfortable silence, still unable to fall asleep. She observed him, the dappled blue-and-white of the moonlight on his chest, here a deep ultramarine where the light was absorbed by chest hair or obscured by the curves of his body, there steel where the skin was tight, a shock of light tracing his hooked nose. Perhaps there was something there she could love, no? He was certainly attractive. The years since their collegiate romance had ripened him. And he still had the energy for sex, though less frequently than before. Addison let her mind go where it wanted, let herself indulge in the image of her husband, sweat gathering in the little channels of his body, his breath following hers, down and in and in and out then up then down into some poor young intern. 

She was definitely feeling antsy. Perhaps experiencing something, concretely, would help with the whole cataclysm of confused emotions and images that were assailing her. And it would be fun. And they may like each other a bit more in the morning. 

She placed her hand on his chest, circling his dark hair. Above her hand he must be smirking, his green eyes must be squinting up from the smile - green? Were his eyes green? No, that was her, that was the intern … blue. His blue eyes must be squinting up from the smile. God, how long had she been married to him? 

Derek was not reacting. Goddammit. She had to escalate things somehow. Addison brought her lips to his neck, kissed him softly. Still no response. She brought her hand down to his thigh, tracing his underwear with the tip of her index finger. 

“Addison,” he muttered. “It burst while I was in there. Poor guy may have permanent damage. Please, I’m tired.”

“C’mon, Derek. C’mon. When’s the last time we did it?”

Derek did not respond. The air was heavy on Addison, the soft wind outside making unbearable noises. This goddamn trailer home was a vise on her mind. She writhed in bed, perhaps somewhat performatively, and brought up her knee against his chest. 

“Derek, I’m really horny.” 

“That could, um, could … symptom of, um,” Derek rolled over. “Temporal or frontal lobe dysfunction.”

“Derek. I can’t fall asleep. Can I -”

“For the love of God, Addison, do whatever you need.”

On the word, Addison shamelessly dug her hand into her underwear. She had to imagine Derek. There was Derek, thrusting, the muscles of his back sliding past each other as he fell deeper into Meredith Grey, flushed, making little gasps, all around her. There were little freckles on her bare shoulders - Addison wasn’t sure if there would be in real life, but it made sense for there to be freckles on her shoulders. Addison was on top of her, was in some abstract sense also inside of her, yes, that’s exactly it, and Grey’s arms were around her, were holding her in, her lips were on her ear, her breasts were rising and falling more quickly, her gasps faster and higher and more ragged - And all of a sudden Addison came, surprising herself.

Addison Shepherd felt extraordinarily embarrassed. The images were swallowed up entirely by the night, leaving her alone with her hand down her underwear. But at least it had tired her out. She dimly perceived an odd sticky feeling on her fingers, different from how it usually was, but she wiped her hand off on the sheet beside her and fell asleep. 

***

Addison woke up ten minutes before her alarm. Her husband was up, nursing a cup of coffee. He nodded at her, then fell into an easy smile. The morning was crisp, and the chill was coming in through the thin walls of the trailer. Addison sat up, feeling oddly uncomfortable. She still felt a throbbing sensation in her fucking genital region. This was getting old. It was distinct from her usual feeling of arousal, however - more concentrated, almost sore, like fingers warming up from numbing cold. She looked down, below the sheets. 

Addison had to restrain herself to not scream. There was a … mass, roughly half the size of a double-A battery, rising underneath her plain white underwear. It was a terrible eyesore, to say the least, rudely protruding from her body at a roughly 70 degree angle. The feeling engendered in  _ it _ every time she squirmed or the sheets brushed against it was one of undeniable arousal, and she realized with no small degree of horror that this was her clitoris. 

Addison looked up at Derek, who did not seem to notice the discomfort in his wife. He was still sitting with one leg resting on the other, idly scratching at his stubble. Addison quickly recognized the outlines of a hypothesis. 

“Derek?”   


“Yeah?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, all right?” At this, Derek furrowed his brow and looked up from his breakfast. 

“What is it?”

“Do you use any sort of testosterone cream? Or supplements of any kind?”

Derek spit out his coffee.

“What I mean is - “

“No,” Derek laughed incredulously, drying off his chin. “No, Addison, why, is there any reason for concern? Should I be?”

“No, no,” Well, it was worth a shot. Addison did realize that aside from the arousal and the growth, there weren’t any other signs of masculinization in her. Something about the pacing here was not matching up with anything she had experienced before. “Listen, you don’t - if you do, for whatever reason, it’s just very important to make sure to wash your hands, all right?” 

“What?”

“Never mind.”

***

That night, Addison fell asleep without major incidence. 

The next night, Addison felt a recurrence of the arousal of two nights ago. Derek being absent, she tried to get herself off as she normally did - circling her clit, rubbing the top, maybe a finger on the inside - but halfway through she realized she was rubbing herself up and down the sides, jacking herself off with her index finger and thumb. 

The next night, Derek initiated a minor makeout session. Addison’s stomach dropped when she recognized the now-familiar feeling of her clit getting “hard”. Her husband felt her underwear and raised his eyebrows. Addison made up an ad-hoc excuse about getting into vacuum pumping. The two of them had sex that night. 

The next night, Addison returned exhausted from the hospital and passed out on the bed with nothing else occurring. She woke up the next day as she did four nights ago - with her underwear tented by an erection now about the height of her middle finger. Her husband laughed at the sight, not without concern, and suggested she get her hormones checked out before initiating unfocused oral sex, alternating between eating her out and kissing the enlarged clit. He asked her if she’d always been a squirter. 

The next night, Addison realized that her index finger and thumb weren’t doing much any more, and used her fist to masturbate while she imagined Derek or Meredith or someone sucking on the organ. 

***

Addison would be able to ignore these events, relegate them to half-dreamt fantasies, were it not for two things. The first was the fact that, though it wasn’t so high that she could not focus on her work, there was a perceptible increase in her libido. Addison had long been aware of a latent bisexuality. It was generally not expressed, save for a chaste kiss during her junior year of high school and a few college experiments. By the end of the week it had been brought out to the forefront, as she more easily recognized the attractiveness of her coworkers. She let her eyes fall down the curves of nurses attending patients, circle the soft curls of hair that slipped out under scrub caps and hinted at a full head of locks. She let herself delight briefly in these gazes throughout the day, just long enough so that they would wake up her shame. 

The second was when she took a quick bathroom break before the second surgery of the day a week into these changes. She had intended to wait for as long as possible, the prospect of taking off her underwear having become very frightening, but eventually sacrifices had to be made. She ran into a stall and closed her eyes in an effort to ignore the changes to her body. The moment she began to piss, however, she understood that something was working differently now. She distinctly felt two streams of urine leave her body, one much higher than she anticipated. She looked down and confirmed that not only was her clitoris now approximately 4 inches long, but that it had grown a urethra. 

Addison stared at the lock in front of her. This could no longer be explained through a hormonal imbalance alone, especially without concurrent signs of masculinization. She was changing, very deeply. Unbidden, she began to run through the textbooks still stored somewhere in her mind. During embryonic development, the intermediate mesoderm differentiates into the mesophrenic and paramesophrenic ducts. When exposed to testosterone, genetic expression in the former eventually leads to the development of the testis and prostate, seminal vesicles, and vas deferens. Until the ninth week of fetal development, external genitalia is the same for most fetuses. The genital tubercle develops from the cloacal tubercle and eventually becomes the primordial phallus, which famously could differentiate into either a clitoris or a penis. 

Her hands were shaking. 

The human body is simultaneously more and less sexually dimorphic than generally thought. Different levels of androgens and estrogens affect everything from skeletal development to nephrotic function to the shape of one’s literal eyeball. She remembered that one always used to make her double-take. The eyeball! And yet, that differentiation worked on the same receptors, on the same tracts of flesh, and interacted in complex and ultimately arbitrary ways with the weave of society. 

She stood up as the automatic flusher went off, surprising her. She had no damn idea how to clean this thing. 

One time, Addison had gone to an exhibit on the ground floor of the hospital on the history of embryology. It was full of reproductions of medical tomes and midwives' texts from 17th century Europe. They used to think the vaginal canal was an inverted, interior penis, with a womb where the balls would be. 

Dimly remembering a case study from South-East Asia, Addison realized she had to tell the chief that she had caught something. 

*** 

Before she could get to the chief, however, the chief got to her. The woman she had operated on a week ago, Leslie Riverson, had apparently brought an unusual novel virus with her following a business trip to Osaka. The entirety of the crew present at the operation had to submit to a thorough screening - less thorough in the case of Addison, as she simply had to take off her skirt for the unflappable representative from the CDC to confirm infection. 

“Please make sure to report the case to all your sexual partners, and direct them to get screened if there’s been any contact since infection,” the epidemiologist said, in the same tone of voice as a flight attendant signalling out the exit doors. ‘You should be all right to continue working. We will be in contact regarding the possibility of surgical removal, following results from procedures in Japan and Myanmar,” the CDC worker squinted mildly. “Burma?”

“Thank you.” Addison was handed a thin, tall pamphlet and directed out the patient room, which she read as she headed towards the on-call room for a short break. 

The pamphlet was of the type that littered the hospital’s trash cans and bulletin stands, written in that neutral, breezy language reserved for patients and the general public. Utterly safe graphic design, devoid of any character, informed Addison that transmission rates were thought to be below 1% with a condom. She should be more worried about getting her partner pregnant than “sick”, apparently. There was a single study cited for this claim, from a paper published this year - not even the CDC website! Apparently information and knowledge was still getting constructed, not that one could tell from the pamphlet. She wondered how often her patients perceived things to be more certain than they were.  Addison opened the door to the on-call room. 

And there she was - her dirty blonde hair, the shock of pale skin, angled away from her, and there he was - his hair tousled in that movie-star way, his face stupid and flushed and his mouth half-open, and his finger was still under the loop of her bra, and she was looking back at her, almost like she was flirting, and his finger slipped out from under the loop of her bra.

“Addison,” she heard his voice, but it was Meredith she was staring at. There were freckles on her shoulder, it turns out. Addison had been informed she had a scary glare. She hoped that her gaze was pinning that poor intern against the wall. Like a high-school dissection. 

Then there was an unexpected, horrible feeling of blood rushing downwards, of skin tightening. There was an unspecified, undirected urge, to do something, a feeling of restlessness and power. She glanced at her skirt and confirmed she had a boner - there was really no other word for it. 

“Get out of this room”. 

**** 

Meredith Grey had had a really long day. 

A bus had been T-boned by an SUV at a nearby intersection at 10 am that morning. It had flipped on its side. Why do they even build them so they can do that? And it was flu season, too. She had been run around the entire morning by Dr Bailey as a result. 

In the evening, a few hours before getting off work, she had collapsed in the on-call room for a five-minute nap and woke up to find Derek sitting across from her. His face made her smile softly. 

“You all right? You seem to be running really ragged,” he asked, cocking up his eyebrows. Then, Meredith Grey did something really stupid. 

Usually, she expected things like that to settle her. The air around her had felt charged, recently, pricked at her and made it impossible to rest, and she felt the need to allow for a discharge of energy. That was the reasoning behind her walking up to him, running her hands through his hair, seeing his surprised laughter and then kissing him deeply. 

She had expected everything to dissolve into nothing, his strength to give her a ground to stand on, or to give her shade. She wanted to leap into a stream and run her hair under the cool water and feel pounding in her temples gradually grow further and further apart, with longer pauses in between, and she wanted to be in love. But the moment their lips made contact she realized she was just Meredith Grey in an on-call room and she was just having fun. 

She kept going, buttoning off her shirt, letting him feel her underwear, cradling his neck, hoping that at least the motions of it all would let her lose her body. And then his wife walked in. 

The only enduring image from the next few seconds was Addison in the doorway with an expression of sheer betrayal of her face. Meredith could barely remember how she had gotten out of the room - did she pick up her shirt from the chair beside her, or was it not fully off her yet? Did she apologize to the surgeon as she left? What did Derek do? Yet, that image would not leave Meredith’s mind. This was, in part, because Meredith was absolutely certain that Addison’s skirt was, for lack of a better word, tented. This, it turns out, was one of the hottest things that Meredith had seen in her life. 

Had that really happened? And what  _ was _ that? A strap-on, maybe? If so - Was Derek into that? How come he never asked Meredith to do that when they were first dating? Was he ashamed? And, why at work? Or had she imagined things? Why that? Why Addison? And why was it so fascinating for her? 

“I just - this is definitely not how she’s finding out. I’m sure of it. She knows he’s cheating, you know? She has to,” Cristina nodded and stuck a forkful of spaghetti into her mouth. Thank God for Cristina Yang. Meredith could not figure out where her thoughts began and ended without her. 

“Exactly. I just don’t understand why he thinks he can keep hiding these things from me,” Cristina responded to nobody in particular. 

“So, is it really cheating if she knows about everything? Maybe it’s more of an open thing, right?”

“I just keep telling him, listen, Burke, if you want me to become a veterinarian that’s not a problem, you just have to let me know!” 

“Oh my God. Do you think - Do you think she finds it hot? Catching us in the act or whatever? That’s so unprofessional!” 

“You’re right! This  _ is _ unprofessional! But how do I get out of it? It’s not like I can just give the cat  _ back _ into adoption, right?” 

“I mean, that would explain why … never mind. I’ll tell you later. But then, he has to know, right? That she’s into that? And he never told me! That’s such a jerk move! I’m allowed to be pissed at him for that, right?”

“Thank you, Meredith. You’re so right.”

“Karev! Yang! Grey! O’Malley!” Dr Bailey stormed into the lunchroom with characteristic urgency. “We’ve got someone from the CDC in the lobby talking about an  _ Phalloidiviridae Futanarii  _ outbreak.” Meredith blinked quickly, recognizing the name of the virus from a class on urogenital pathology, and remembered Addison. “Were any of you working with Leslie Riverson this Monday?”

“Oh yeah, uh,” was George always there? “That was - I think Shepherd - Montgomery-Shepherd was on that one”

“I didn’t ask which  _ attending _ was with Leslie Riverson, O’Malley, I asked if any of  _ you _ were with her.”

“I was,” Alex raised his hand. “Why?”

“You’re going to see Dr Petrowski in the lobby, he’s with the CDC. Did you have anything scheduled for tonight?”

“I’m still on Dr Montgomery-Shepherd’s rotation. She’s got another C-section tonight, I think.”

“Not any more, you’re not. You’re getting screened.” She turned to the rest of the interns in a single staccato movement. “Grey. Are you on anything tonight?”

“No, I wasn’t, I just finished - “

“Then you’re on C-section duty.” Meredith tried really hard not to groan. The prospect of spending the rest of the day with Addison after getting caught with her husband and obsessing over her anatomy for hours on end was threatening to undo her. “O’Malley, Yang, you two know what you’re doing?” The two interns nodded exaggeratedly. “Then get to it!” 

The interns scattered to their respective posts. Meredith stood up quickly, prepared to head to obstetrics, but Dr Bailey’s voice cut her off. “Except. You. Grey. Listen, I am not interested in discussing your personal life in detail, but this is a public health matter, and I am a health professional. So. Are you still having sexual intercourse with Dr Shepherd?”

“What?”

“ _ If _ you are, and please do not volunteer any details, but  _ if _ you are, and  _ if _ he is still fulfilling his marital duties, then I suggest you stop immediately.”

“What, could - “ 

“Let me just say we could be in a hell of a lot of trouble if we end up with a repeat of the whole … situation with Karev and O’Malley last year.”

“Situation? What - “

“They nearly gave the entire intern class syphilis, Grey. Well, thank you. Good luck.”

***

Meredith Grey observed carefully as Addison Montgomery-Shepherd washed her hands and put on some latex gloves. Following an earlier screening, she had been approved for surgery - the risk of transmission was negligible with proper PPE. 

“Lay to your left, please,” Addison asked the woman who had just sat on the operating room table. “This may hurt somewhat - it’s just a regular injection, though, really nothing to be worried about. As we’ve discussed, it’s going to be a spinal anesthetic. You won’t fall asleep, but you won’t be able to feel any pain from the operation. You may feel a little bit of movement or tugging. That’s all normal.”

The patient nodded. She was around forty years old, with dark greying hair. The bones of her spine were little mounds along her back. The anesthesiologist inserted the needle into her spine, and injected the cocktail of anesthetics and pain relievers that was necessary for the procedure. 

“All right. First thing I’m going to do is going to be a horizontal incision, starting along the iliac crest and along the lower section of the hypogastric region. Grey. You will be clamping this open for me.” Addison was speaking quickly, too quickly. “You understand that?” Before Grey could respond, Addison had sunk the scalpel into the woman’s abdomen and cut across, in a single, slow movement. 

There is an aesthetic quality to all good surgery, but most doctors had learned to abandon that simple romanticism early in medical school. Watching the smoothness of Addison’s hand, however, Meredith felt a deep, yet uncomplicated, appreciation for a beautiful line, the sort of cut that made the human body seem like an introduction to anatomy model. First a line, then the bloom of lazy red, drowning the shape. 

“Grey. Clamps. And suction.” Addison’s voice had a definite note of irritation. “This is a routine procedure, seriously,” all right, maybe more than a note. 

The procedure continued in a similar fashion, a run-and-chase little swing dance, with Addison forcefully in the lead and Meredith following behind, stepping on her own feet. Meredith had not realized how competent the obstetrician was, and despite the near-constant snideness from the older doctor, she felt engrossed in her mentorship. 

“All right,” the woman’s abdomen lay unfolded in front of them. “Dr Grey, I am letting you do this because I trust you. And because the readings look good. You will be rupturing the amniotic sac. Take the scalpel, and it’ll just be a horizontal cross along the top of the uterus.” 

“Are you certain?” said Meredith. Cutting the uterus was easily the most important cut in a C-section, and she had felt very little of anything resembling “trust” from the older doctor throughout the procedure. 

“Yes.” Meredith could see very little of Addison’s facial expression through the scrubcap and mask. Her large grey-green eyes revealed nothing other than focus and competence. They certainly did not reveal any patience.

Meredith nodded, then took a scalpel. She sunk it into the wall of the woman’s uterus. Oh, that was perfect. Meredith felt elated with pride, the flow of the OR infecting her movements. She almost forgot the web of relations that connected her to Addison, and simply wanted to prove herself as an intern. She was about to move it downwards when she heard Addison speak once more. “Stop. Don’t move.”

The patient let out a small whimper of confusion from the other side of the screen. “It’s quite alright. I’m just going to be checking her technique to make sure you could possibly have a vaginal birth in the future.”

Meredith felt Addison behind her. “Too deep, Grey. We’re not chopping onions,” Addison whispered, softly enough so only Meredith could hear. There was very little venom to her voice, just mild levity. “Now cut horizontally across the mesometrium. I’ll clamp for you. Try to keep it one movement if you can,” she continued at a regular volume. Meredith felt her presence like a weight on the back of her head. “You’re shaky. Is something making you nervous?” Once again with the whispering. 

Meredith finished the cut and lifted the scalpel, feeling unexplainedly embarrassed. The intimacy of the older doctor standing immediately behind her had loosened her focus. “That will do.” Addison clamped the cut open. “You see how I am placing these clamps? It will help me see better. That’s why we have them.”

They exited the OR at 7:45 PM. Meredith had full intentions of going back to her apartment without speaking a single word to Addison. She took off her scrubs, got re-dressed in her day clothes, half-jogged to the elevator, pressed the down button, and went down one floor before being joined by Addison Montgomery-Shepherd.  “Grey,” her voice was deep and soft, asserting itself without raising its volume. “You’ve been sleeping with my husband.”

“”Listen, um, Dr Montgomery-Shepherd, I - “

“It’s all right. No need to explain. There’s an epidemiological concern that I have, however.”

The only sound for a few seconds was the mechanical grinding of the elevator heading to the lobby. A metallic ding punctuated their waiting. Meredith was surprised that she could hear her tongue click against her teeth as she prepared to speak. 

“What is it, Grey?”

“Um. Dr Bailey already gave me a briefing on the - on the situation.”

“It’s rather uncomfortable,” Meredith pursed her lips and nodded curtly, trying not to laugh. “I’m serious, Grey.” 

“I don’t - “

“What, you don’t want to hear the details? Please. I think we are, quite frankly, past any stage of bashfulness. At least since I saw you topless this morning.” Addison squinted her eyes, somewhere between playful and vindictive. “You’re not curious?”

“Curious?” The question was instant. Too quick, thought Meredith. She came up with a quick diversion. “Medically, you mean?”

“Never mind,” laughed Addison. “Make sure he wears a condom. That’s all.” A final ding, and the elevator opened to the ground floor.

Meredith felt light-headed. She had felt the entire day as though her skull had been cracked open and everyone could read her thoughts, as though Dr Bailey and Addison were trying to dissect her. She heard her voice crack as she tried to return to stable ground. “What the hell were you doing in that OR?”

Addison whipped her head around. “Excuse me?”

“That was a perfectly acceptable initial incision,” Meredith said, feeling the words pull her up and forward towards the older doctor. “And I wasn’t shaky. Or if I was, it was because you wouldn’t stop breathing on me. If you want to control me as some sort of proxy for controlling your husband, that’s all right, but don’t make an awake patient think I’m screwing up a cut on her uterus.”

Addison laughed dismissively. “It was far too deep and far too lateral. I’m legitimately concerned about her future ability to give birth vaginally,” Addison replied. “Not too much, though. It was ultimately … competent.”

“Stop it!”

“Stop what?”

“Stop playing with me!”

Addison lost her teasing smile, and for a second looked legitimately guilty. “I’m not playing with you, Grey. I’m sorry if I’ve made you think I am.”

“You make me feel paranoid as hell while I am waist-deep in a pregnant woman’s abdomen, all  _ after _ you catch me with your husband, and then you  _ flirt _ with me in the elevator!“

Perhaps that last exclamation was a little loud. Two front-desk workers giggled amongst 

themselves, scandalized. 

“Asking me if I’m curious? I mean, who wouldn’t be!”

Addison was completely speechless. Meredith felt her face get hot in embarrassment. “I don’t understand how you don’t hate me.”

“Grey, I couldn’t … Of course I don’t hate you.” Addison thought of putting a hand on the intern’s shoulder, but thought better of it. The air was too tense. 

“Do you want to?”

Addison cocked her head to the side and furrowed her brow. “Sometimes.”

“Why don’t you?” The two women were standing uncomfortably close to each other. Grey looked up into the maternal fetal surgeon, at her large, hooded eyes, her strong jawline framed by thick red hair. 

“I can’t,” Addison said, smiling dimly. “I don’t know why. I … like your presence. What can I say.” She had to breathe consciously, let her breath in and out through voluntary control. “You said you were curious?”

***

The two women had disappeared into an empty patient room. Now in private, Addison felt paralyzed, unsure of herself. It was Meredith that was stepping closer, that was running her hand along Addison’s waist, that was coquettishly smiling up at her and then gently sitting the other woman down on the on-call bed. Addison let herself fall into the bed, and Meredith’s hand was still running along her waist. Her hand came to a stop behind her chest, between the shoulder blades. With her free hand, Meredith traced Addison’s neck, in a single smooth movement placing the red hair behind the older woman’s shoulder. The two doctors just looked at each other in silence, but then, without much in the way of announcement, Meredith kissed Addison on the lips. 

The kiss was short and superficial, followed by a sheepish giggle from Meredith. “Sorry,” she mouthed, then planted another kiss on Addison’s cheek. 

Addison felt Meredith’s hand move from between the shoulderblades downwards, down from the ribs to her waist, and there it grabbed on, feeling its form, and a pinky slipped beneath the white blouse Addison was wearing. It rested there, it felt the outlines of her hip, and still the two women were just looking at each other in silence. Then it was the ring finger, casually, dropped unthinkingly beneath Addison's shirt, and the middle finger, and then Meredith's whole hand lay on Addison’s stomach. 

Addison leaned forward, and grabbed Meredith’s shoulders. She pulled Meredith towards her, and the two aimed for a kiss but ended up knocking their foreheads together. Addison laughed, and she kept laughing as Meredith gently kissed the side of her neck, and as she felt another hand on the side of her waist, and she was laughing as Meredith was kissing lower on her body, was heading towards the clavicle, and one hand was on her thigh and the other was going higher on her torso and heading towards her bra. 

Then there was that now-familiar feeling of movement and energy downwards, centering on the crotch. Addison felt it raise, felt it get caught by the tight fabric of the skirt, sensitive, almost in a soft precursor of pain. Meredith brought her knee against it and gasped, despite herself. Addison stifled a groan.

Meredith was now still, with one hand near Addison’s breasts and another on the inside of her thigh, but with no clear idea of where to move forward. Addison saw that minor note of hesitation, hugged Meredith tight, and rolled her over, so Meredith was now on the bed and Addison was hunched over her. 

“Can I - “ Addison started, assertively grabbing the hem of Meredith’s shirt. Meredith nodded, and Addison rushed to bring it up over the other woman’s head - in her rush getting it caught around Meredith’s armpit. 

“I got it,” Meredith said, and finished taking off her shirt. Simultaneously Addison had grabbed the back of Meredith’s bra and was unclasping it. She pulled the little metal teeth upwards, then to the side, then held the other end with the other hand, and continued to struggle for about a second too long before suddenly there was a rapid release of pressure and the white cotton bra fell down Meredith’s shoulders. Addison pawed Meredith’s left breast, rubbed the nipple with her thumb, felt it stiffen, as Meredith’s facial expressions flickered through a halting ecstasy, briefly. The dick, she supposed  _ her _ dick, felt like it was being pulled forward, as though a string at the end of it were getting infinitely tighter and thinner. 

Meredith ran her pinky over the bulge it was creating in the other woman’s skirt. Addison felt as though her breath were being beat out of her. 

“Wow,” said Meredith. 

Addison was panting. She closed her eyes and recollected herself. “Dramatic, isn’t it?” she smirked. “I think it’s a little gross, personally. But fun. It’s no use keeping it a secret once that CDC guy started hanging around.”

“This is infectious, right?” 

“We’ll use a condom. If you’re interested in … it. There should be one in the left pocket of the lab coat on the door.” Meredith nodded. She stood up briskly and dug in the lab coat by the door, realizing that she recognized the embroidery on the lapel. 

“He used to keep it there for me. He might’ve kept them there for you these days.”

Meredith walked back, and handed over Derek’s condom wrapper to Addison. 

“Right,” said Addison, and with no small degree of awkwardness unclipped the top of the skirt. She threw it to the side. Her plain cotton underwear was not doing much of anything, the center front somewhat transparent with precum and the middle wet. Addison’s dick was forcing it out, the panties not being designed for this anatomy. “I think I need. Um. If I’m going to keep this, I’ll need new underwear,” she noted, and Meredith threw her head up and laughed, softly. The smile was so warm and so happy and so much that Addison could not do anything but put her hand back on Meredith’s shoulder, push her gently downwards, and lock in for a deep kiss. 

Addison felt Meredith’s tongue gingerly tap her teeth. Her breath caught, she didn’t want to breathe, she wanted to go in, she needed to go in, despite the novelty of the feeling she understood the meaning of the instinct, as did Meredith, because Meredith had locked her thumbs around Addison’s panties and was now bringing them down. The air hit Addison’s dick and it twitched, and she needed to go in. 

Meredith ended the kiss, and groped for the condom. She tore the wrapper, then, after quickly gathering the direction it was rolled, placed it on Addison’s head and ran it down the six to seven inches of her shaft. Her ring finger felt the base of it, and explored underneath. There was an external rounded bump underneath, the size and shape of half a ping-pong ball. 

“Where are you?” asked Addison, desperately.

“I think you may be growing - “

“That’s okay. It’s all okay.”

Meredith nodded, then went further down, slipped a finger in between Addison’s lips. It slipped in despite Meredith’s care, the other doctor was so wet. 

“Please, Meredith,” she said. 

“Yes,” said Meredith, and on the word Addison’s mouth was on Meredith’s nipple, sucking it desperately, bringing it out, and her two hands were unclasping the top button on Meredith’s jeans. Now Addison was rubbing Meredith through her underwear, and her penis was nudging the side of her thigh. With her hand, Addison dug into Meredith’s panties and made small, slow, heavy circles around Meredith’s clit. The intern gasped and cried out, and brought her body against Addison, bringing one of the doctor’s fingers into her pussy. 

“Yeah. Yeah you can now. Please.”

Addison grinned and sat back, removing her hand from Meredith’s underwear and now bringing it inside herself, fingering herself while she rubbed the length of her penis with the other. “Yeah?”

“It’s so - it’s - please, Addison”

Then Addison tore off Meredith’s underwear and placed her dick between the lips. She thrust it in. 

“Holy - shit - I’m inside - oh my god -”

Meredith felt her reaching in, she was full and Addison was inside of her and the two bodies knew the other, and there were little shocks everywhere it touched inside of her, it was warm, it was warm for both of them, and she needed to and Addison could not control how she was going and it was in and out and Addison had to go in and down and down and down and towards each other and Meredith’s body was being split apart from the bellybutton to the top of the head and Addison and something was coming up and Meredith needed her deeper and Addison needed deeper and then Meredith closed her eyes and fell backwards and all the world was Addison, and she dimly nodded while Addison asked for permission for something. 

Then Addison came. The two women collapsed towards each other. For a few seconds they merely embraced the other. 

Then, after a silence - “I think I’m done,” said Addison. Meredith smiled brightly in response. 

“You sure?” she grinned, teasing. 

Addison pulled out, holding the condom at the base. She pulled it off of her, and admired the small collection of semen that had pooled at the tip. It was watery and thin, but definitely cum. She curiously pressed the base of her dick and recognized two twin protuberances. 

“I’m gonna grow balls?”

And then Derek Shepherd came into the room. 

**Author's Note:**

> Between seasons 2 and 3 that's why Izzie isn't there also in my hc she was super fired forever for that fuckin heart bullshit smh


End file.
